Day Thirty: what a month

Today, November is over.  I'm pretty sure this is my last attempt at NaBloPoMo.  After reading what Eden, the inventor wrote a week or so ago, it could be the last one for everyone.  It's a fun, but very draining experience to write something on your blog every day for a whole month.

This morning, I've been thinking about the last month and about some of the things that have happened in the last thirty days.  Here's the short list.

• hosted two dinner parties
• baked and iced nearly 200 cupcakes
• made 7 dozen croissants from scratch
• all four of us had bronchitis.  They boys had walking pneumonia, too
• celebrated dad's birthday
• moved out of my house for four days
• had my entire house painted while I was moved out for four days
• did my job, attended a staff meeting, planned for and prepared a live webinar for folks all over the country
• picked my mom up form the airport
• went to church
• taught a big combined lesson at church that made a couple young women cry
• survived the preschool carpool another month
• survived having my preschooler home with out school for five days straight
• bought an artificial Christmas tree and decorated it
• mourned the loss of my great uncle 
• prayed for my brother-in-law who was in a terrible motorcycle accident while he was in the hospital two weeks and had to have his shoulder joint replaced
• continuing to pray for my brother-in-law as he makes a slow recovery
• finished 90% of my Christmas shopping
• wrapped a few Christmas gifts to send to Arizona
• sent Ross and the Chick to the emergency room because he wasn't breathing so good.  Spent a week doing the inhaler every three hours and a lot of sleepless nights driving around the neighborhood
• watched football on tv
• addresses and stuffed all my Christmas cards
• sat for a family photo
• made Christmas count down chains and hung them throughout the house
• bought my own Christmas present
• cheered my brother on as he made the VARSITY basketball team
• attended an early morning two hour church training
• went to book club even though I didn't read the book
• finished two books this month
• prepped a ton of food for Thanksgiving
• had a happy Thanksgiving at my mom's house with extended family
• enjoyed the company of my husband for 5 days straight - happy he was home - didn't argue or fight with him once .
• loved my boys - loved that they loved having their dad home

Phew!  That was quite a month, wasn't it?

Day Twenty-Nine: Digging Out

I've lived my entire life in Utah.  Snow doesn't really bother me.  I'm not a huge fan of driving in the snow, but I actually enjoy shoveling snow, watching snow fall (especially with a hot chocolate in hand), and I don't even mind being outside and freezing a bit...for a few minutes at least.

There have been major snow storms during my life, but only a few snow days.  I could probably count them on one hand.

The first winter I was married, Ross and I traveled to Arizona for Christmas.  Talk about opposites in weather, right?  I've been covered in snow every winter of my life and spent my first married Christmas in 60 degree weather, watching Arizonians cover themselves in sweaters and jackets and coats because they were cold.

That winter there was a huge storm right around the big holiday.  Trees broke, power was out for days in some spots, and mother nature really dumped on the valley.  Our big car was parked at my parents house and they took care of it.  By the time we got to my parents from the airport we could see some of the damage from the snow, but really didn't have a full grasp on the storm until we got home.

We lived at the University of Utah in student housing.  We had a great ground floor, three bedroom, two bathroom student apartment that had been part of the athlete village during the winter Olympics.  We were right up on the hill.  Literally, on the hill.

As we pulled into the parking lot it was quite obvious that there weren't any real spots to park in.  A plow had sort of been through the lot and any car that was in a stall just got buried.  My little VW Golf was included in that mess.  Ross and I drove through the parking lot three or four times, not looking for a parking space, but looking for my itty bitty car.  It was literally buried in the snow.

I think after a few minutes of circling we gave up.  We knew it was there, and we'd find it later.

The next morning I found my car.  It was going to take a crew of shovels and a whole lot of sweat to get it out.  I called in the cavalry  - Mom, Haley, and Willie - to help me out.  They showed up with shovels and we set to digging.  It took the four of us quite a while to get that little car uncovered let alone dug out enough that we could actually open the door, start her up, and get her moving.

For a lot of people, that probably sounds like a grueling situation - digging out a buried car.  I'm pretty sure that was one of the most fun things I've ever done.

We probably went to the training table after for some fries and cokes.  That's always fun, too.

Day Twenty Eight: NaBloSuckO

It's almost over. Two more days.

Two more days.

Two more days.

Really, I've got nothing left to write about. No stories. No genius.

Nothing.

It happens every year. I get excited and the excitement lasts for about 10 days and then it's just a struggle to finish.

Blogging every day is hard.

Planning out time to sit down and write something is painful.

It's like the big snow storm we were supposed to have last Tuesday. Everyone was in a panic. Schools shut down. Business shut down. My staff meeting ended early. We all needed to get home before the blizzard to end all blizzards.

We got like and eighth of an inch of snow. Maybe.

Today? There's a blizzard out there people. I just got home from driving in it. My parents have a foot or more, the roads are slippery and we couldn't stop at one intersection and coasted through a red light.

Thank you people for not being in a hurry and killing us.

Where were the bells and whistles for this snow storm? Where were the masses of people hitting the grocery store for bottled water?

Where is my hot chocolate?

Day Twenty Seven: Festivus for the Rest of Us

Today we were all sitting in the living room and the boys were exhibiting feats of great strength. Ross said all we needed was a pole, and an airing of grievances and we would have just celebrated our first familial festivus.

Instead, tonight, on the 27th of November we put up our ARTIFICIAL Christmas Tree.

Damn the masses. We caved and went fake this year. Standing in the store last night debating which tree to purchase was a strange feeling. There was no sense of excitement and no smell of pine.  We weren't bundled up and running through a make-shift forest of trees.  It wasn't special.  It was economical.

I grew up with fresh cut pine tree for every Christmas. A real, live Charlie Brown tree. One with bare spots that just needed a blanket to wrap around it's spindly limbs and love.  One that needed regular attention and care.  One that never really stood up straight and always leaned a bit to the left.

I now have a fake, pre-lit tree in my basement that cost us $99 on sale. It pays for its self in one holiday season! I of course wanted to the more expensive, cooky, non-traditional tree but with two screaming boys, two pushy salesmen and one frustrated husband it was quickly decided that cheaper was better.

It didn't fit in the back of the car. We looked a bit like hillbillies driving home with a tree hanging out the back window, screaming kids strapped to seats, and a hankering for some orange chicken from the local Chinese take-out.

The tree, though it's only been up for an hour as I write, has got me thinking about holidays past and how my kids will really never experience some of the traditions I celebrated (and survived?) around holidays. It's also helped me realize - this week of Thanksgiving, that I don't despise holidays nearly as much now that I have children. I would still like to run and hide every single time a significant celebratory date rolls around but rather than actually book a flight and head out of town (as we have done on many occasions) I find that I'm starting to get into the spirit of things.

I want my kids to have joy and happiness in their lives. I want them to fill the spirit of giving and service and to be generous.  I want them to have memories to pass on to their own families. Our traditions may be a bit lack luster and somehow always be consumed by an insignificant sporting event, but my kids will remember, I hope, that their parents love them. That their parents set up the Christmas tree before it was even December.

That their parents can celebrate holidays, too. Even if they'd rather get out of town and go out to dinner.

Now, can anyone help me find a powerful pine tree sent that I can fill up my house (and my vacuum) with?

People say we look alike

Annie is growing tired of the daily posts, so I get to pinch hit.

Here is a story.

Once in 2002, Annie and I went to a session of LDS General Conference with my parents at the Conference Center. We were 'dating' and at some point during the session began to hold hands.

A very nice lady that was sitting next to us said, "before you started to hold hands, I thought you were brother & sister".

I replied, "no, we are cousins".

She did not speak to us for the rest of the session.